The Forever Home by Sue Watson

Chapter Thirty-Five

‘We know your birthday is on Monday,’ Phoebe said, ‘but as we’re both busy during the week, and you now work a couple of days, we decided to do a flying visit, and as it’s Saturday, stay over tonight with you.’

‘You two are so naughty,’ I said, hugging them. I was, of course, delighted to see my kids, and even if I didn’t feel like celebrating, it was lovely to have them home. They’d both told me they couldn’t get back to Cornwall for my birthday, and with everything going on, I didn’t question it.

‘We weren’t going to leave you on your own for your birthday, Ma,’ Jake said, already going through the cupboards looking for food.

Ryan had gone to the hardware store for nails, and I’d just been going to make lunch for us. He would walk back into the house at any moment, and I wasn’t quite sure what to do. I really didn’t have the energy to break it to the kids that one of ‘the Jarvis Brothers’, as they referred to them, was sleeping in Jake’s room. Except he wasn’t, he was actually sleeping in mine. I didn’t know which was worse. I may have to explain why he was here – but not tell them everything.

‘Fabulous,’ I said, then suddenly realised that Jake would be taking his stuff up to his old room, and he’d see Ryan’s stuff there. And I may in fact have to tell them everything.

My children laid out gift bags on the kitchen surface, and Phoebe opened a bottle of fizz.

‘Oh, you are both so lovely, I’m really touched,’ I sighed, taking the glass Phoebe was proffering.

‘It’s good to be home,’ Jake sighed, and Phoebe and I caught each other’s eye.

‘You okay, dickhead?’ It was Phoebe’s affectionate nickname for him, which was fine until we had company. I remembered Mark’s sister finding it rather ‘disgraceful’. It always made me smile.

‘Yeah, I’m good,’ he said.

‘Have you heard anything from her?’ she asked, referring to the girl who had broken his heart.

He shrugged. ‘No, and she can piss off,’ he said, topping up our glasses, as he’d always seen his father do. ‘Happy birthday, Ma,’ he said, and echoing this, Phoebe lifted her glass and we clinked them together.

‘Here’s to plenty more fish in the sea,’ I said, and we clinked again.

‘That applies to you too, Mum,’ Phoebe replied, ‘now you’re young, free and single.’

Just as she said this, I was aware Ryan had come in through the glass doors. The kids were looking from him to me and back again, a bemused expression on both their faces.

‘Hey, Ryan,’ Jake said, and Phoebe immediately got another glass.

‘Are you going to celebrate Mum’s birthday with us?’ she asked.

‘Oh, I didn’t know,’ he said, standing awkwardly by the doors, his hands in his jeans pockets. ‘You never told me, Carly,’ he said, obviously feeling bad.

‘It isn’t until Monday,’ I said, still wondering how the hell I was going to break it to them that he was staying now, and kicking myself for not just telling them over the phone when we first arranged it. I just never thought I’d be in this position. Jake had told me he had summer work in Exeter, and Phoebe didn’t visit often, and they both usually told me beforehand when they were coming home.

‘So, what shall we do tonight?’ Phoebe asked, looking around.

My heart hurt a little as Ryan looked down, obviously excluded from this conversation, and I wanted to put my arm around him. He was my partner, however temporary, and he should be celebrating my birthday with me and my family.

‘Let’s do a takeaway and stay here. We can sit in the garden?’ Jake suggested, always keen to be home.

‘Okay, are you happy with that, Mum?’ Phoebe asked.

I nodded. ‘Yes, that would be lovely…’

I shot a look at Ryan, who made an ‘I’m fine’ face. But I couldn’t help feeling bad that he wouldn’t be part of this.

He was soon talking to Jake about the work he’d been doing on the house, while Phoebe took the takeaway leaflets from the drawer.

‘What do you fancy, Mum?’ she asked.

‘Chinese?’ I suggested, still wondering how I was going to introduce the idea that not only should we invite Ryan to share the takeaway, he was also sharing their mother’s bed.

‘I think we should order now, for later,’ Phoebe was saying. ‘That way we can just relax, have some more drinks; you can open your present.’

‘That sounds good,’ Jake said, turning away from his conversation with Ryan.

‘So,’ Phoebe said slowly, as she read the leaflet, ‘I’m thinking Banquet A for four people?’

‘Four?’ I asked.

‘Is there one for three?’

She looked surprised. ‘Why, isn’t Ryan staying?’

He looked over at us, and I looked back at him. ‘I’d love to,’ he said, ‘thanks.’

‘Great,’ I said, surprised, but touched at the way he’d been included.

Ryan and Jake went outside to look at the work he’d been doing.

‘So, you’re okay with Ryan staying for dinner?’ I asked Phoebe when we were alone.

‘Yeah. Mum, we’re obviously going to vet him, and give you our verdict. But we’re not stupid, Jake saw his socks on your bedroom floor when he came home to get his books – and I saw his bedroom eyes every time he looked at you when I was last home. I wasn’t sure about him at first, but I trust your judgement, and he seems to make you happy, which makes me and Jake happy. And, of course, like all good children, we have gone through his social media like Google detectives.’

‘And?’ I asked.

‘And so far, there’s nothing to report. But we’re watching.’ She pointed her fingers at her eyes then mine, and I thought how strange it was to have my kids looking out for me, when it had always been me looking out for them.

The evening was better than I could ever have hoped; there was suddenly no awkwardness about Ryan being around. Jake, being the lovely kind soul he was, had no problem with Ryan’s stuff being in his room. ‘It’s like having a big brother,’ he said to me quietly as we gathered the plates together for the Chinese food. ‘I always wanted a big brother.’ I was relieved and happy, and that Jake saw Ryan in those terms was a bonus – here was a role model, someone who worked hard and genuinely cared for people. Ryan didn’t always put himself first, and hopefully, was nothing like Mark, the father Jake had hero-worshipped most of his life.

That night, the four of us sat around the garden table, talking, drinking, eating and, of course, laughing. Candles flickered in jam jars, and the scent of honeysuckle wafted around us, mingling with the laughter, dancing around the flames. It was a warm night, the sea like black glass, the sky a velvet canopy, studded with stars, and my kids not only accepted him, but they liked Ryan. They’d drawn him in, included him in our family; they’d laughed at his jokes and listened to his stories. But, more importantly, he’d listened to theirs, he hadn’t dominated the conversation, made us feel like a decorative background. He asked questions, was interested in their family memories and laughed along with us. How different things were turning out to be. I had no money, and probably quite a struggle ahead to keep the house, to pay the bills; life was going to be hard. But that night, I’d never been happier.

Our lovely family evening under the stars kept me going long after the kids had gone back to their respective lives. I did some more days at the shop, enjoying the structure it gave to my week, and growing fond of Maureen, who I worked with most days.

Ryan didn’t seem to have found any extra work, so spent the time working on the house. Life was quite blissful, and I rarely thought about Mark, or Erin, apart from one evening when Ryan mentioned something his brother had told him.

‘Max says he saw Mark with some redhead the other night.’

‘Redhead?’

‘Yeah, really young, someone said she’s a journalist. She’s going to America with him to write about his new show.’

‘Really? That’s interesting, I wonder if it’s Charlotte,’ I said, ‘and I wonder if Erin knows.’ I raised my eyebrows, remembering the pretty young reporter from the interiors magazine. ‘I should have known when he invited her to our silver wedding party. He might have been seeing Erin then, but looks like he was already lining up the next one!’

‘He really is something else, isn’t he?’ Ryan said, shaking his head.

‘Yes, I imagine that’s where the money from our joint bank accounts went; he probably took Charlotte on weekends to Paris and New York in the best hotels.’

‘Wouldn’t Erin find out?’

‘No, he’s a bloody expert at cheating, he’s been doing it for years. He’d tell her it’s work.’

That conversation reminded me that Mark was about to leave for America, and I felt it only fair to myself that I try one last time to ask him to give me the money he owed me. So I called and left a message.

I left several more voicemails to him over the next few days, each one more angry than the last. As usual, I received no response. So when my phone rang one afternoon while I was at work, I was amazed to see his name come up. I asked Maureen if I could take it outside, said it was ‘the doctor’ and just hoped she didn’t see the ‘dickhead’ flashing across my phone screen.

I hadn’t heard from him for a couple of weeks, but had been kept updated indirectly by Lara, who called me now and then to complain about him, like he was my errant child. Most of her calls began with, ‘You won’t believe what he said to her this morning…’ and she’d go on to regale me with some repeated conversation that Erin had taken offence at. I didn’t particularly want to hear it. I still felt a bit of a disconnect between us, since the day we’d met for drinks.

‘Carly, why do you spend your time stalking me on my phone? Don’t you think I’ve been through enough? All that stuff with Erin, when she decided to go AWOL. She is blabbing to anyone who’ll listen, saying I’m out all night, having affairs. Estelle and I are trying to keep stuff out of the papers every day. Last night, I almost had to call an ambulance I felt so ill.’

‘Oh, something serious, I hope?’

‘I thought I was having a heart attack. But it turned out to be heartburn,’ he explained, like I’d care.

‘So, my messages, can you please answer the question, when will you put the money back in our accounts? And we’d agreed twenty per cent on the US deal.’

‘Here’s the thing, Carly – it’s all been a bit touch and go with the US deal. Trying to convince the streaming network that Erin isn’t a fruit loop is a full-time job in itself after that stunt she pulled. I’ve had enough, Carly.’

I wasn’t surprised this was causing some problems. TV networks won’t play ball with high-risk presenters, and having virtually faked her own death, his girlfriend was a scandal waiting to happen. If the US deal didn’t come off, then we’d all be disappointed, including me, but my priority was my home, and how I could keep it. My big concern was that Mark had been dragging his heels to sign the Consent Order, which was essentially our financial agreement for the divorce, and gave me back his half of the house.

‘Look,’ I said, ‘whatever’s going on, you have to sign the divorce papers. I want my house back, and you out of my life, Mark.’

‘Okay, I’ll sign them.’ He agreed to this so quickly I smelled a rat, but I didn’t want to let it go, so jumped at it.

‘I can come to the cottage now?’ I suggested.

‘No, actually I’m staying on the houseboat of a friend.’

‘Really? Since when?’

‘Since yesterday.’

I wasn’t aware of this new development. ‘Have you left Erin?’ I asked.

‘No, no, I just need some space. I can’t get any sleep with the baby, and I need peace and quiet.’

‘You used to say that when our kids were little, and you went to a hotel,’ I said, knowing he was probably with someone then, and with someone now.

‘Hmm. How about we meet tomorrow evening?’

I sighed; it was obvious what he was up to. ‘Okay, I’m working tomorrow, so can we say seven?’ I suggested.

‘Fine.’

‘If you call it off or back out on our agreement in any way, that’s it – I’ve already told Estelle, I’m going straight to the press and I will tell them everything, including the rumours I’m hearing about your little redheaded reporter.’

He snorted. ‘Do you really think anyone’s going to listen? You’ve said yourself how happy you are for me and Erin, and yet you tried to attack her in your home… You’re very mixed up, always have been, Carly. Especially after your mother’s death.’

I went cold. ‘You can’t hold that over me forever, Mark, it was a long time ago.’

‘Doesn’t make it right though, does it, however long ago it was?’

‘Tomorrow at seven,’ I said, unable to even continue the conversation, and I put down the phone.

Later that evening I told Ryan about the conversation, and what an idiot my husband was.

‘If he’s such an idiot, why are you always calling him? Just talk through your lawyers,’ Ryan said.

‘Because it costs to talk through our lawyers, and some of the things I have to say to him would make them blush,’ I replied, opening the fridge and taking out salad for dinner.

He didn’t answer, so I turned round.

‘Are you jealous?’ I was surprised.

‘Yeah. I am. Is that so weird?’

‘Yes, because there’s nothing to be jealous of.’

‘I’m not the jealous type – at least I don’t think I am, but the idea of you meeting him, being anywhere near him… it gets to me.’ He pulled a baffled face, like he’d never experienced jealousy before. I wondered if things were changing between us, and we were coming to rely on each other, to care too much, and if that was a bad thing?

‘Ryan, you need to remember, he isn’t Mark Anderson, the handsome, capable TV presenter you see on the screen. This is the real Mark, the alcoholic with attachment issues,’ I sighed, closing the fridge door. ‘He reckons the US deal is in jeopardy, and he’s not at the cottage with Erin, he’s staying on a boat, which I think means he’s seeing someone.’

‘God, he’s really sunk low, hasn’t he?’

‘Mmm. He thought by having a younger wife he could be immortal, that she’d make him look younger in America – but she may have single-handedly wrecked everything.’

‘They’re like two kids,’ Ryan said, shaking his head.

‘I want my house back; I don’t want to be married to that childish, selfish man any longer. That’s why I’m meeting him tomorrow and because we need to change our wills. At the moment we’re both the other’s next of kin. I’ll be delighted to hand that over to Erin. Lara said there’s talk of a wedding.’

‘But he’s just moved out?’

‘I know, but apparently they haven’t broken up.’

Ryan laughed. ‘They deserve each other.’

‘Yeah – I wonder how long that marriage will last?’

Little did I know, there wouldn’t even be a wedding.